One of the most disappointing things in life is discovering someone with a beautiful fig tree who doesn’t eat figs. I think it’s ok to pass judgment because I used to be that person. Granted, I was 4 years old at the time and refused to eat them, missing out on their subtle, delicate flavor and historical significance.

Fast-forward about 20 years to adulthood. Figs no longer have to compete with PB&Js and red apples and that’s just fine with me. But it’s only been as an adult that I’ve learned to really dig figs; they come to market for such a brief time (right, say, now!), are one of the most delicate tree fruits, and stand in the culinary lineup of fruit that doesn’t always hit you over the head but lets you take your time with its flavor. That’s not to say a fig can’t be bold — there are some with flavors reminiscent of eating jam right out of the jar. But their telltale tastes make them perfect for both sweet and savory applications, and I think there’s no better way of eating fresh figs than with cheese or on flatbread. To me figs belong with cheese.